


Tell Me What the Wolf Knows

by Madame_Snarf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Snarf/pseuds/Madame_Snarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Spoilers for Ending/Epilogue] Traveling after the Elder One's defeat, Solas dreams where the Lavellan clan once stood and sees his beloved through the years. She speaks of life and love with her confidant and mentor-the statue of Fen'Harel that sits at the edge of the camp. (Solas/Lavellan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Greeting friends and anons! This was either an idea born from a prompt I saw somewhere, a conglomeration of several or a conjuration of an idea after gorging myself on Solas information after finishing the game. I have not written fanfic in yeeeeears, so this is growing pains on my part.  
> Anywho, SUPER ENDING SPOILERS in this story. If you haven't finished the game and don't want to be spoiled don't read this. Go roll an elf, romance Solas, finish the game, cry and then come talk to me :)
> 
> A few notes to make, this story features the Lavellan clan NOT moving around as they very, very likely did in the lore. For the purposes of this story, they stay put for awhile!  
> Story takes places immediately after the defeat of Corypheus but BEFORE the epilogue.  
> Also, the poetry used in the story is most assuredly not my own. The first is a poem called “She Comes Not” by Herbert Trench. The second is “Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her” by Christopher Brennan. Both beautiful pieces, go Google them and love them on their own :)  
> Also, I imagined the Fen'Harel statue to be like the piddly one in DA Origins! Not the giant, beautiful, regal wolves that we see in the Temple of Mythal xD  
> I encourage anyone who likes the Solas x Lavellan pairing to somehow contribute to the conversation online! Write a fanfic, favorite a post somewhere, draw something, say something on the forums. Let's make sure Bioware knows that we want moooore in DLC/Expansion! (And perhaps a happy ending for the two?) :)
> 
> Thanks for reading cuties!

Night had long fallen as Solas crossed into the forest clearing, hundreds of stars dotting the wide expanse above him on a cool autumn's night. The journey of the day had worn on him as he stopped briefly to assess the clearing that he had crossed into. 

“A good spot as any to camp,” he muttered softly, as he began to investigate the perimeter. Fog traced the edges of the brush as he carefully searched for signs of creatures or danger. But as he walked around the clearing, his stroll was interrupted by the sight of a small patch of purple wildflowers. Amused, he bent down to inspect them. “Fascinating that they still bloom this time of year.” As he reached down to touch one, it was then that he felt it. A small ripple in the Veil, so minute, it was nothing but a small pinprick on his finger. He smiled to himself. There may be something small worth dreaming here tonight. It would be a welcome distraction from thoughts of...

' _In another world..._ '

' _Why not this one?_ ' she had pleaded tearfully, stepping towards him imploringly. Hurt and suffering had punctured every word as she begged him to reconsider. When he thought of her now, he saw the face of one twisted in pain and despair. The face that haunted him was the one he saw as he had walked away from her that night. 

“I can't, Thalassa...” he said aloud, the name still sweet on his lips. He shook his head, pushing it out. It was not worth further consideration. Continued recollection would serve only to drive him mad. 

And so Solas set to work on creating wards, ensuring his safety while he dreamt in the Fade. When he was satisfied, Solas laid down next to the patch of wildflowers and relaxed his body. He allowed himself to stare briefly at the night sky, studying the soft twinkling stars above. There was a peace he felt that was almost... unnatural. It was soothing, he admitted, but he did not like how easy it felt to fall in to.

The world slowly faded, like the lines of sunlight drifting from the sky as dusk settled to nightfall, and he passed into his dreaming. The landscape dissolved to be replaced by a cool gray mist. He was between worlds now, waiting to discover what secrets this place held. 

After a time, he began to stir. Now in the Fade, he stood up and began to assess his surroundings that were slowly coming back into view. It was then, with great surprise and amusement, that he beheld the wolf statue that appeared. It had appeared alone, before even the world faded back into view. 

“Curious that I should be here,” he chuckled as he approached it with a knowing smile. The statue of Fen'Harel that had once rested here featured the creature seated on his hind legs, his front legs rigid and poised, ready to jump into action if needed. The look on the creature's face was not as feral or horrifying as others he had witnessed. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see that it looked like a normal wolf. “These are memories you held and allowed to linger here. I see.” 

The landscape then shifted abruptly and a cold rain suddenly engulfed him, water and wind pelting him in the face. The clearing had returned, now sufficiently saturated with what must have been days of heavy rain. Thunder rumbled sharply in the distance, ominous and low as it reverberated in his chest. 

It was then, out of the darkness of the forest, that a small body burst forth from the brush and collapsed onto the ground with a wet splash. The small child, a young girl, was sprawled out trembling and pitiful. She was completed drenched from the rain, her legs, clothes and face splattered with wet dirt and strings of wet grass that clung to her tattered clothes. There were small cuts on her legs and arms, cause by the edges of the sharp brush she had raced through. As she lifted her head, large tears spilled from her eyes as she let go a heaving sob. He noticed the purplish welt on her cheek, clearly having been struck by something or someone. He ached quietly for the young girl who clenched her fists in frustration and pounded the puddle she was laying in, splashing more mud into her face.

“I hate them!” she cried out loudly, slamming her fists into the puddles again. A low rumble of thunder could be heard, causing her to shiver with fear. She then took her arm and tried to wipe around her eyes. Smearing the mud across her pale face, her tear-filled emerald eyes stared into the darkness and right at him. He tensed as he studied the girl carefully, her features familiar in a strange and distant way. Something horrifying knotted in his chest as he assessed her and how familiar she truly was to him.

' _It cannot be..._ ' he thought anxiously as he watched the child sit up and look around her, her body still heaving with deep sobs. The girl of no more than seven sighed heavily as she tried to calm herself and began to study the forest clearing around her. It was then that her eyes fell upon the wolf statue that she had landed close to and she looked up to it with a gaze of fear and uncertainty.

“You're the Trickster,” she said aloud. She whimpered a small sob as she took her arm and wiped the mucus from her nose and upper lip. That she succeeded in smearing it across her cheek made Solas smile wryly as he watched her sidle up on her knees next to the statue. She planted her bottom next to it and looked up expectantly. “You are the one who hunts alone. Betrayer,” she told it. “No one likes you, dread wolf.” Solas knew his expression was grim as he listened. He had heard the telling countless times over the ages. This should bother him no more than any other. But to hear it from a child that looked like it could be-

“No one likes me either,” the little girl announced, more tears spilling from her eyes as her bottom lip quivered. She pulled her knees up to her face and hugged them to her shaking body. “I wasn't born in this clan. My father was killed and my mother and I ran into the woods. Bad men were chasing us. Mamae was hurt... she fell down when we reached the camp. She died.” Solas drew in a sharp breath, realizing that the child's story matched that of Thalassa's. 

' _No, no, no. This is coincidence surely,_ ' he insisted. He recounted the night in Skyhold that Thalassa told him the story. Her eyes held much pain, and she could not look at him while she recounted the tale. But she did not cry. Her voice was firm and strong as she had told him. She had no more tears to shed for her mother and father, for they had long been drained from her. 

' _My father was killed when I was still a child. He worked as a cook in a noble's estate and was blamed for stealing. He was killed because the kitchen was missing two silver spoons from a set that was gifted to the noble by the Orlesian Empress. My mother panicked and fled with me to seek out the Dalish after his murder. Her grandmother was Dalish, and she had always loved telling me her grandmother's wild stories. She thought that finding the Dalish would mean freedom for us. The noble wasn't content to let my mother go free, and he pursued us with others. We were chased into the wood and she was pierced by an arrow. She died when we reached the Lavellan clan as they were traveling to their next camp._ ' Solas recalled the telling as he watched the child lean her body against the statue, her head nuzzling it gently from the side.

“The Keeper let me stay with the clan... but no one likes me. They all call me flat-ear. They tell me I'm ugly... they say...” she whimpered, biting her lip and trying to force back more tears, “They say that Mamae should've died because she wasn't a real elf.” She bit down on her lower lip harder as hot tears swelled down her cheeks again, mixing in with the rain that was blotching the mud off of her face. The pain that gripped his stomach tightened harder as he watched, trying to come to terms with what he was witnessing.

“Why do they say that? Why do they not like me? I... I'm like them, aren't I?” she asked quietly, her eyes turning up towards the wolf, his gaze piercing into the night. Solas' heart broke as he watched her struggle with the question, the pain that was etched into the child's face cut him deeply and he longed to reach out to her. To hold her and whisper kindness to her. Instead she was alone, shivering in the rain. Solas stepped up to the child and knelt down next to her, studying the welt on her face, resisting the urge to reach out to her. 

“Did they hit you I wonder?” he queried softly, his voice gentle as though he were actually addressing her and not the Fade's memory. As though she understood, her small trembling fingers reached up and touched the bruise on her face.

“They threw rocks at me... because I wouldn't let them cut my hair... but they still...” It was then that Solas noticed the clump of hair that was cut much shorter than the rest. “Namie told the boys that she wanted me to be uglier... one of them found a knife...” She whimpered again, more tears flowing down her cheeks. This time however, she flung her arms around the statue, crying into its stone pelt. He felt light-headed from the fury and emotion that washed over him in that moment. That this child suffered so...

He watched as the girl wiped her face sloppily, a horrible mess of an ill-treated child that clearly wanted love, warmth and reassurance. It was heart-wrenching. Her eyes then turned upward to the wolf's face that she was embracing now. She unwrapped her arms and leaned back, regarding it quietly for a moment. The rain was beginning to slow.

“No one likes me... and no one likes you either...” she said softly. He sucked in a deep breath as he watched her hand, caked with mud, tears and snot, began to pet the statue affectionately. Soft and lovingly, her hand traced the gentle curve of its head between the ears. The movements left a muddy mark upon the wolf's white coat, each stain washed away by the slow, gentle rain that now fell. It clearly calmed her as she regarded the creature gently, thoughtfully. “You and I are both alone.” She continued to pet him as she blinked a few more tears free from her eyes.

“My name is Thalassa.”

His gut twisted in agony. It _was_ her. This was the woman he loved, shown before him as this small, forgotten child. It was too much to see her like this. And yet he continued to watch as he saw her reaching out, yearning to feel love and affection—from anything or anyone. Even a god cast down into ridicule. Lonely, betrayed, and alone. Despite his own reputation, she was drawn to it by virtue of her own solitude.

“Will you be my friend, Fen'Harel?” It was this that made him bite his knuckle, trying to hold back a searing pain that burned along his cheekbones and at the edges of his eyes. He bowed his head in frustration, gritting back regret and sorrow as he listened. 

“We don't have to be alone anymore. I'll be your friend. We don't need them,” she whispered gently. Then suddenly, she threw her arms around the wolf, embracing him as tightly as her tiny arms could grip it. “We can have each other.” A stifled sob escaped his lips, as he covered his eyes with his palm trying to not to weep. How could this be? What kind of cruel, sick joke was this? She unknowingly called out to him, unwittingly was drawn to him by reason of his being an outcast and then sought comfort in his image, even as a betrayer and trickster. 

“They laugh at us, Vhenan,” he muttered, pain accenting every word that he barked through gritted teeth. “They know what we cannot have. What we can never-” 

“We _can_ be friends,” she said, a small smile spreading across her lips as she interrupted him. The statement pleased her greatly as she nuzzled her wounded cheek next to the wolf's side affectionately. “You'll listen to me. And I'll come visit you.” She sat there now in silence, the rain had all but stopped, dissolving into a thin mist that kept the air moist and crisp. Solas had regained composure of himself as he continued to watch her. Her exhaustion was clearly catching up to her as he watched their silence, sleep tugging at her eyes as she continued to lean against him. “Thank you... my friend...” she mumbled, drifting off to sleep so deeply as only a child can. He shook his head. 

“No more.” And the world vanished. Where there should be only blankness, a vast misty gray canvas that waited for dreams to be painted upon them, the marble wolf still stood. Alone. The Fen'Harel statue continued to gaze back at him, as though waiting for his permission. He smiled grimly as he regarded it. “Is there more, my friend?” he asked bitterly.

And with his question daylight broke and the forest was alive once again. Instead of the rainy night, he regarded the piles of yellowed and brown leaves that littered the forest floor. The branches, all but empty of their charges, filtered the brilliant glow of the late afternoon autumn sun, casting long, pointed shadows upon him. It was then that he heard the heavy crunching of leaves as someone raced through the brush. Bursting forth from the bushes, a girl darted out, her giggles floating in the crisp autumn air.

Thirteen year-old Thalassa Lavallen giggled playfully as she bounded up to Fen'Harel, excitement painted upon her soft face. The skirts of her dress were torn and the edges frayed with dried mud. A few wild leaves decorated her long auburn tresses, Solas noticed. She had been in a great hurry. What baffled him was that she truly came back to the statue.

“Hahren, you will never guess what happened today!” she exclaimed, pure joy laced into her breaths and words as she bounded to Fen'Harel. The rapid change from sorrow to joy was much needed as he allowed a thin smile. That she called him Hahren was not lost on him either. And it brought him no small joy.

“Tell me, da'len,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. Truthfully, he was embarrassed to continue the charade of a conversation. To indulge himself could only yield more sorrow. Yet it humored him in a dark comfort that pushed him to continue. 

He watched as Thalassa cleared her throat and straightened her back, stilling herself to try and look confident and poised before Fen'Harel. The corner of his lips turned upward as he watched her face fall gravely serious. She lifted her arm, extended out her hand and cupped her palm upward towards the sky. She began to concentrate. Solas felt the small spark in the air as she centered herself on the palm of her hand. He continued to smile as he knew what this memory must entail.

It was then that a small fire burst to life in her hands, the gentle flame lapping in her hand as she laughed with mirth and joy.

“Do you see, Hahren?!” she exclaimed wildly. “I am a mage! MAGIC!” She closed her palm, the flame collapsing upon herself as she giggled again, her youthful glee almost uncontainable as she jumped in placed and danced. “You should have seen Namie's face!” Thalassa sighed as she stilled herself, attempting to contain herself between fits of giggles. “I am so sorry, Hahren, I will calm myself.”

Taking another deep breath that was punctured by a final stifled snort, Thalassa seated herself before the wolf, back straight as though she were addressing her elder. Entertaining the memory more than he should, he walked around her and seated himself next to Fen'Harel's statue watching her close her eyes and center herself.

“When you are ready, da'len, I will hear your story,” he told her. She open her eyes and looked up to the statue, a deep breath escaping her as a more composed smile appeared.

“This morning I had been complimented by Sarrell on my marksmanship. He said that I was improving quickly and was impressed by my accuracy,” Thalassa beamed. “Namie, of course, loving the much older Sarrell as she does, was furious. So what does she do? While I was eating lunch she ruined the arrows that I had fletched that morning, pulled out ALL of the feathers and had strewn them around where I had left them. She had the nerve to claim that a wild animal had somehow snuck into the camp, the fool!” Thalassa huffed and folded her arms across her chest in a flamboyant display of emotion. Solas laughed, not used to seeing such raw highs of emotion from his generally guarded beloved. He supposed that all young teenagers were such, but he had truly not expected such a display.

“You are right to call this Namie a fool. She is utterly beneath you and undeserving to know you. What did you do then?”

“When I came back to gather my things, I saw the mess that Namie had made. The others were laughing, of course, and Namie looked as a innocent a full-bellied snake. She told me her sorry tale as the others continued laughing. Sarrell was kind enough to try and intercede on my behalf, but all I could think of was how much I hated Namie and her smugness for her stupid insult. I then looked at her hair and thought, 'Burn!' and lo the edges of her hair burst into flame!” Thalassa clapped her hands gleefully as she threw her head back and laughed. Solas chuckled with her, enjoying how excitable she was. 

“The poor harpy screamed and rolled in the grass like a pig in the mud to put it out! Her friends just stood there stupidly! One even laughed at her!” Thalassa's chuckles subsided as she looked up to Fen'Harel again. “The Keeper was actually pretty understanding of it all. She made sure that Namie was OK and then congratulated me on my gift. She said that accidents tend to happen when mages discover their talents...” she paused then and hesitated, “She told me that she was proud of me.” 

Solas regarded Thalassa quietly as she thought on what she had just said. Her face fell into a serious expression. 

“She's never said that to me before. No one has... since Mamae.” She chewed her lower lip as she continued to dwell on the thought and he could feel the wave of joy subsiding, giving way to thought and gentle reflection. “It's not enough to make me want to stay here forever though.”

Silence fell to her lips again as she let the noise of leaves fluttering in a sharp breath of autumn wind take over. She regarded her hands again and watched as she created the small flame in her palm, almost effortlessly. He watched as the flame danced in the wind and the light reflected in her eyes. She searched the flickering light that she had created, her thoughts unvoiced. Her brow creased and she closed her palm suddenly, determination etched into her face as she regarded Fen'Harel's statue again.

“I'll ask again, Hahren. Take me away from here.” And suddenly the scene had shifted from autumn to winter. Where leaves had once covered the ground, snow now replaced it. Small flakes, spat from the small tufts of passing clouds above, now filled the empty space where the cold night had fallen. Thalassa still sat before the statue, a dark cloak now drawn around her, the hood placed loosely upon her head. The clouded moon cast a faint light upon her, she was now a little bit taller, her cheeks slightly fuller. 

Sixteen year-old Thalassa Lavellan was more severe than her last iteration and her red cheeks now bore the markings that she had come to detest—the vallaslin. The simple design she chose wove faintly under her eyes and he could see redness around it, not caused solely by the cold. She had clearly received them recently.

“The elders of the clan are accepting, but those of my age... they still regard me with disdain,” she grimaced. “I cannot help it if I am simply more mature than them. I will not stunt myself on their behalf,” she scoffed. Solas remembered Thalassa telling him that she had received her vallaslin much earlier than the others of her age group. Thalassa had told him about how the Keeper always had a tender spot for her, and saw the intelligence and maturity that she possessed at so young of age. It had boded well for her with the Keeper and other elders, but not with those who are also young and endeavored to be in the Keeper's good graces. “They laugh at how faint it is. They say, 'The creators do not favor Thalassa and cast their gaze away, for she carries the vallaslin that only a flat-ear could wear.'”

“You do not wish their eyes upon you, da'len. Believe me,” Solas frowned, thinking of the horror etched into Thalassa's face as he revealed the truth of the vallaslin markings—slave markings. “You do not belong to them.”

“It is appropriate though, Hahren. I think...” she sighed softly, relaxing as she tried to find peace. “In truth they are right, I am not one of them. Nor will I ever truly be. And this is why I want you to take me away.” He watched as she rose to her feet, pushing the snow to the ground that had collected on her shoulders and lap. She stared quietly at Fen'Harel from under her hood, her eyes pleading and uneasy. “I... I have kept something from you, Hahren.” This caught Solas' interest as he regarded her, prodded by her shy, searching demeanor.

“Oh? You admit this freely? Then relieve your secret upon me, da'len,” he spoke, curiosity lacing his words. Even while in this memory, his words were muffled with the insular effect of the snowfall. The world was still and hushed between the two of them and Thalassa shuffled her weight to another leg as she shifted nervously.

“I've been having dreams, Hahren. I dream of you.” Her eyes then drew shyly to her hands, as she tugged nervously on the leather gloves she wore. “Y-you call to me. You ask me to wake you.” Solas' eyes widened at the ramifications of what she was suggesting.

“This... this cannot...” Solas muttered as he shook his head as he considered the gravity of her suggestion. “I did no such thing in my slumber...” he protested quietly in disbelief.

“It's true,” Thalassa chuckled nervously as she looked up to the statue, regarding it affectionately. “It was a snowy night such as this one. In the dream, I was woken from sleep by your voice in the night. Carried on winter's breath you asked me to come to you.” She began to shyly walk towards him. “And so I came. The entire camp fell into a deep slumber from your spell, as you wanted to ensure that only I came to you. When I saw you, you were glowing faintly. Even though the snow fell upon you, it melted... because you were warm with life.” Solas watched as a she placed a hand upon the head of the wolf and wrapped it around the back of its head, pushing the gathered snow from its noble crown. She held it affectionately as her thumb caressed the side of its muzzle.

“What then, da'len?” Solas asked quietly as he watched.

“Then... you told me that you were locked in a dream. You have been with me all this time and can bear the separation no more. But you could not free yourself. Only... ” she swallowed and hesitated, her cheeks reddening, “Only with true love's kiss could you awaken.” Solas felt a sharp pain twist in his stomach again, the cut like that of a cold shiv seared a deep wound inside. 

“Vhenan...” he whispered softly, the ache of lost love crossing both of their faces.

“I kissed you and you woke,” she said, her voice trembling. “I cannot recall your face, it matters not to me. But... you woke. You were real,” she paused. The thumb continued to rub at his muzzle affectionately. “And you loved me.” Gritting his teeth again, Solas tore his eyes away and heaved a heavy sigh, unsure how to process what he was seeing. 

“Madness...” he growled, shaking his head. “This is...”

“Hahren,” the earnestness of her voice pulled him back to look at her. “Please forgive me for what I am about to do.” With the same resolve that he saw in her eyes before their first kiss in the Fade, Thalassa descended and planted a kiss upon Fen'Harel's cold head. Solas watched as the quick kiss ended and Thalassa stepped back, her eyes wide and waiting. And yet, nothing happened. The snow continued to drift in the quiet wind and the emptiness of winter's night filled the silence. Her expression fell as she let tears fall from her eyes. “I-I'm sorry. I'm such a fool...” She turned from him, embarrassed as she folded her hands and looked down into the snow. 

It was then that Solas stood up quickly and strode next to her, walking to her side to see more tears fall onto her gloved hands. He regarded her sadly as she cried quietly. He tried to place a hand on her shoulder only to watch it slip through her. A pained look passed across his face, yet he still spoke to her.

“In time,” he began, “You will give me that same look, Vhenan. You will boldly steal a kiss from me again.” He knew she couldn't hear him. He knew this had already come to pass. Nevertheless, he couldn't help himself but to address her. “And I will not let you turn away from me this time.” He smiled through his heartache. “No, I will not allow a kiss to be stolen from me and I not receive my due in return,” he chided playfully. He continued to smile sadly to himself as he walked around her, looking up into the night sky. “No, for your one kiss, you will pay with hundreds more. For your one kiss, you will pay with soft, lingering glances stolen between battles. For your one kiss, you will suffer sweet words whispered to you in the night.” He stopped and regarded her again, standing directly in front of her. “For your one kiss, you will have me. In body, mind,” he paused, “and spirit.”

And then she looked up at him. It surprised him such that he shifted back a bit as her pleading eyes turned upward towards him, tears streaming freely as she looked up to the night sky beyond where he stood. But in that moment, her eyes seared into him, heartache painted openly in her brow as she searched. 

“Vhenan,” he whispered painfully, as he began to reach his hand upward to her face. Suddenly, she sniffled and nodded, her head turned back towards the statue with a sad smile, drawing away from Solas.

“I understand, Hahren. Not yet. Forgive me for my rashness.” She bowed quickly and made a hasty exit. She continued to wipe her eyes free of tears as she moved quickly, her cloak trailing after her in the wind. Again, he was alone with the statue.

The silence of the snowfall hung heavily in the air as he watched her leave. Truly, how could he ever have imagined such a thing unfolding? The very idea of it, the cruelty and the joy of it, tore at him mercilessly. That she was so desperate to converse with an idea, a depiction of him was strange and joyous enough. But the dreams she spoke of...

Solas was pulled from his musings by another shift in the memories. The winter's snow had faded away and had given sudden birth to a new spring. Families of songbirds chirped in the trees and the once barren branches now held the bounty of the fresh leaves. 

It was here that he beheld again the small patch of purple wildflowers. They bloomed around the base of the statue and he took in a deep breath of the clear warm spring air as he tried to relax. He looked around for the span of several minutes, but was curious to not see Thalassa appearing yet in the memory. The previous memories had been surprisingly well-tailored to him, not carrying much time between visions. He smiled to himself, sure that he would hear wildly bounding steps of her youth soon. 

Yet as he continued to wait, she did not appear. Solas sighed and wondered perhaps if he would need to seek this one out for his own. 

“She comes not when Noon is on the roses—Too bright is Day.” A woman's voice. Soft, mellow, purring prose wound in spring's breeze as he had just begun to take his first step. 

“She comes not to the Soul till it reposes From work and play.” The sweet chant was drawing closer, the rich rhythm of this low voice elicited an ache inside of him. 

“But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices Roll in from Sea.” The anticipation of her arrival left him breathless. Exactly how many years had elapsed from the last memory he wondered. 

“By starlight and candlelight and dreamlight.” He drew in a quick breath as he saw long familiar fingers pull away the branch before him. And he beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

“She comes to me.” 

Nineteen year-old Thalassa Lavellan entered the clearing with the grace a poise of a blossoming maiden. She lacked the distinguished elegance of when he fell in love with her at Skyhold. And yet in this time she elicited the raw beauty that only one just arrived at the threshold of adulthood could bear. She wore her thick auburn locks long, the fringes that framed her face pulled back and nestled neatly among her long tresses. She wore a dress of deep emerald with a plunging neckline that gave ample view of the curves of her milky, swollen breasts. She carried herself, even then, with a knowing poise. One who holds herself with a self-assured confidence and determination. And in this confidence, she exuded a sexuality that one holds when it is a new found treasure. Solas did not stifle the hungry growl that stirred in his throat, as something primal awoke within.

“Ma Vhenan, you are...” he moaned, words failing him. He was snapped back to alertness as she closed the book in her hand with a loud thump and regarded Fen'Harel gently. She affectionately patted him on the head.

“Happy Spring to you, Hahren. I've brought you a gift from our feast,” she smirked. She pulled a band of flowers from her wrist and gently placed them upon the wolf's head like a crown. Her eyes lit up playfully as she regarded him. Solas chuckled at the gesture. “I knew you would be pleased. You cannot always hide under your scowl.” She gracefully seated herself before the wolf in her same spot and she bowed her head respectfully towards him. Transfixed, Solas returned to his previous position by the wolf's side as he listened to her speak.

“You will enjoy today's tales I am sure, Hahren,” she grinned. “But do not be jealous, fear not.” 

“Oh? Jealous how, da-” he paused. He regarded Thalassa who now fished for something in the bag she carried. His eyes fell upon the ample cleavage and he swallowed hard as the blood began to drain from his stomach to his lower body. “Ma lath,” he corrected himself as he blushed and regarded her fair face again. With a triumphant chuckle, she grinned and produced a small animal foot from her bag. She held it up for him to view.

“Take note, Hahren. This poor artifact is what remains of a pelt I was presented today,” she told him with a knowing smirk. 

“A pelt... does this mean that you-”

“Yevran proposed to me today,” she announced happily. Solas suddenly felt his stomach drop. She had never mentioned another before. Was she involved with this man? Did they-

“And I burned the pelt before his eyes,” she told him triumphantly, emerald eyes glistening. Solas let out a breath he did not realize that he was holding. “Now, before you tease me, I truly did NOT mean to do this at first. I was very polite in my first refusal. And my second. And then my third. The man would not take no for an answer and likened my refusal to 'the mysterious and dainty ways of flustered young ladies.'” She chuckled wryly, “I showed him exactly how dainty I can be.” She threw the poor fox's leg onto the ground and sighed heavily. Solas smiled as he gazed upon his love and her fiery resolve. This is a side of her that he saw in a much more controlled manner as an adult. As a young adult, however, she clearly kindled a spirited passion that made her all the more... enticing. “It was a pretty pelt and I am sorry for the loss of the creature to such a fool errand.” Another heavy sigh, another shudder of her breasts that caught his eyes hungrily. 

“Control yourself,” he growled, chastising himself as he again returned his attention to her flushed face. 

“After his failed attempts he then appealed to the Keeper like a small child whining about a lost toy. As expected, the Keeper was entirely amused at his whining and did not relent to his insistence upon a match. What a fool,” she said. “Truly they all are like this, Hahren. None of the men, no, _boys_ of this clan are what I am seeking. They care only for how well they can shoot their _shemlen_ ,” she spat the word. She had confided in Solas how much she had loathed the insult previously. “Or how well they can string a bow, or how must bluster they can blow over tales, which they do NOT recall correctly,” she huffed hurriedly. “For instance, just today Varran tried to retell one of the Keeper's stories and I had to correct him at least seven times.” She sighed again and slumped slightly, looking off into the distant brush. “They are not what I want.” A pregnant pause. Solas swallowed.

“Tell me then, what it is you want?” Solas asked, silently hoping that it was going where he thought it might. He was happily obliged.

“What I want... is a man of class,” she smiled softly. She began to absently play with her hair as she stared off shyly. “He doesn't have to be a mage, but it is preferable. I'd like to be able to learn and grow with him in the magical arts, I think. I want a man who is cunning and wise, can manipulate reality with words and careful action, instead of brute force. He is confident in his abilities and determined in his manner. He is guided by his keen moral compass, and does not stray from it for sex or wealth. A man who...” she paused, her words trailing off as she looked up towards Fen'Harel, heat now radiating from her cheeks. “Who will satisfy the passions that keep me awake at night and... who can answer the questions I ask of my body when I touch it.”

“Oh sweet mercy,” Solas growled, gritting his teeth in tortuous agony as he listened, sucking in a deep and pained breath. Blood pooled lower and lower in his body as he regarded her, wanted her. Her composure mirrored his own, wanting and desirous. Her gaze was unwavering from Fen'Harel. It was apparent that she now held Fen'Harel as something more. No longer just a friend, confidant and Hahren. Her imagination had spun him into a desire.

“I still have the dreams, you know,” she told him, her voice low and lustful. “With age and maturity it has become something... erotic. When I come to free you, you whisper things to me at night that I can...” she paused nervously, biting her pliant lower lip as she sought the right words. “Soft, sweet ministrations of love and desire that you whisper in all corners and crevices of my body. When I free you from your bonds, it is you who binds me and plays wantonly. When I am almost at my peak, it is a lustful symphony of Elvish that you lavish upon me as you tug on my ears with your teeth. You have a marvelous appetite for my begging and moaning. And I am yours to command.” Solas was breathing heavily as he watched her do the same. The desire that passed between them and yet unconnected was heavy and almost overwhelming. “We... we free one another in the night.” 

“Ma sa'lath, I crave you in the night,” he began speaking without pause or consideration, the ache too much. Solas did not realize that he had even stood up and moved towards her until he had already begun speaking. “The loneliness of centuries is erased with the swath of your tongue on my body. The disappointment of betrayal is banished with the press of your lips upon mine. The emptiness of my heart is filled with the cries of pleasure that only I can elicit from your flesh.” He realized now how close he was to her. The fresh wanting of this young spirit, inexperienced and yearning for desires unreached was almost too much... and yet it was not the face before him that made him harden with desire in this moment. He hesitated. “It is _you_ I want, Inquisitor.” And the Thalassa he thought of was the woman with the mark upon her hand. The woman he met at Haven. The woman he had led to Skyhold. The Herald. Proud, regal, elegant... The ache throbbed longingly again for her. 

“Forgive my ramblings, Hahren. I... I am distracting myself, I'm afraid,” she chuckled sheepishly as she picked up the book she held again, seeking any kind of distraction. Solas slowed his breath as she also attempted to compose herself in turn. He backed away from her, slowly. “One of the hunters found this in the wood after a week-long hunt. It is a long abandoned book of human poetry. Fortunately for me, no one else in the clan seemed interested. Allow me to read you another, Hahren. The prose and fiction of humans is of interest to me.” 

Solas smiled as he took note that this had not changed. For all of the scholarly works that Thalassa had poured over, he occasionally noticed the questionable literature that was tucked in her tall stacks of notable books on her desk. Any question to her regarding it would be deflected as a joke or a mistake. However, he noticed the embarrassment in her voice as she quickly tried to change the subject. It was only when he had offered to act out such a novel that she was happy to... divulge the specific nature of its content. The memory brought a feral grin to his lips.

“If questioning would make us wise  
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;  
If all our tale were told in speech  
No mouths would wander each to each.

Were spirits free from mortal mesh  
And love not bound in hearts of flesh  
No aching breasts would yearn to meet  
And find their ecstasy complete.

For who is there that lives and knows  
The secret powers by which he grows?  
Were knowledge all, what were our need  
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?

Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”  
I love you now until I die.  
For I must love because I live  
And life in me is what you give.” 

She breathed a contented sigh as she finished the poem, enraptured with emotion. 

“I suppose I have stolen enough of your time, Hahren,” she said as she rose from her seat. She approached him carefully and Solas saw her stop short of the statue as she regarded something below it. The purple wildflowers. She smiled as she beheld them. “These are coming in nicely this year. I hope they are a color to your liking. I tried to pick something unique to this spot that perhaps you haven't seen before.” She then leaned forward and carefully planted a kiss upon his nose. “Dareth shiral, Hahren.” A pause and another blush. “My dream lover.” 

The world around Solas shifted again as the memories lapsed into late summer. Cicadas droned loudly in the heat of summer as the sound carried through the boughs of the canopy. The sweet orange glow of sunset cast faded shadows around him as he adjusted again to the sudden changes of the surroundings. He frowned. It wasn't enough time to recover and process what he had witnessed.

She had been in love with the idea of him. In loneliness and longing she had sought him out. He shook his head in disbelief. Why had she not said anything about this to him? He could understand her desire to never reveal that she had spoken with, for years, a statue devoted to a dark god. But that she had adapted him to her longing imagination. That she had used him to fill the void of what she needed in her life at the time. That she dreamed wantonly of him. To have discovered it in such an intimate manner as this! 

“First.” The sudden words startled him as he looked down for their owner. He then beheld her seated on the other side of Fen'Harel. Twenty-two year old Thalassa Lavellan looked defeated and sad as she sat clutching her knees to her chest. “First,” she repeated again, shaking her head with exasperation. “I should be happy, shouldn't I? No one else was given this honor.” She groaned and sunk her head forward into her knees. In a vain effort of commiseration, Solas seated himself next to her.

He was surprised to see her so disappointed with the idea. He assumed what she spoke of was when she had been selected as the Keeper's First, her apprentice. She had confided in him before of her desires to leave the Lavellan clan to study on her own. But she admitted to Solas that she had never fully realized that dream because she was asked to become the Keeper's apprentice. Still, she had seemed to maintain some point of pride of her position when they had spoken previously.

“I never thought I would stay so long, and yet here I am,” she sighed. “It's not like it used to be for sure. The clan doesn't despise me as a whole anymore and instead regards me with a warm respect. I have improved much in the ways of my magical ability. I have grown. And yet...” Hesitation and worry contorted her face as she shook her head. “This is not enough. We don't know enough. There is not enough knowledge for me to grow as _I_ want to.” She stood up from her seated position and walked forward, looking out into the forests beyond that Fen'Harel watched ceaselessly. Solas watched her walk slowly away, the pace she set being one of thoughtful contemplation. “There is so much of our culture lost to us. And we merely sit upon what little scraps we try to maintain. But what if we haven't even preserved it correctly? What if we have twisted it?” Solas' face fell in sorrow, both as he watched her struggle and in knowing the answer.

“Being First means that the clan relies on me. I can't chase the knowledge as freely as I please when I have to ensure that people actually survive. This is what scares me, Hahren,” she sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “I'm afraid of falling into this... sad, resigned comfort. We wallow in a cycle of misery with more pieces of ourselves lost each generation. We either need to reclaim truth, wallow in despair, or...” she paused and turned around to face him and reveling a grim determination. “Create something new.” Solas' eyes narrowed as he tried to read her in that moment. It passed quickly however and she shook her head, pacing back towards him. 

“I've told you already that we're moving our camp tomorrow. Do not worry, Hahren, as First I volunteered to see to your safe travel and find a good place for you upon arrival,” she chuckled as she regarded Fen'Harel warmly. “But there's something important that's been gnawing at me for awhile now. I came to an important conclusion recently and I've... been waiting for the right moment to share.” She placed her hand affectionately upon Fen'Harel's head and smiled.

“For many years, I have asked you to save me. Thinking only of my own misery, I called out to you so many times, waiting for the moment when I could free you from your bonds and you could spirit me away.” She chewed her lower lip, indicating that she was trying to phrase her words very precisely. “I had been focusing only on me though. And that's not really fair to you is it? It's become clear to me now though, I'm not the one who needs saving anymore. It's you.” His heart clenched tightly at this, watching her stroke Fen'Harel's head tenderly. 

“You remain banished from the hearts of the Dalish, Hahren. All tales we have of you describe you as either a devious betrayer, a cruel teacher, or a hardened trickster. Yet, I don't believe this to be the case,” she told him plainly. “My dreams show you differently. I believe in them. If I can discover only one piece of new knowledge for our culture, I want it to be the true essence of who you are. I will show them that you are more than these cruel stories. I know you are worth saving. Because you already saved me.” He stared at her in shock, the swirl of emotion washed plainly upon his face. A panic gripped him, so fierce and so feverish that it swallowed him. 

“Even now, you're still lonely, are you not?” He stepped forward towards her, breath quickening, his pace frenzied. 

“I will find you.” Unable to compose himself, he reached out to her only to find that his hand slipped through her yet again. He growled audibly and began a string of Elvish curses, emotionally frustrated. 

“I will restore you.” He sunk to his knees and slammed his fist against the ground angrily, the pain searing through his hand even in the Fade. “And then, we will be together.” 

“You can't, Vhenan!” he cried out to her finally, his voice frayed with emotion as he pleaded.

“I promise.”

“ **YOU CAN'T SAVE ME!** ”

 

He bolted up suddenly from his dreamer's sleep and felt the surge of emotion overtake him as he broke down. Solas wept openly, painfully. Heaving sobs borne of centuries of despair blended together with the memories he had witnessed in a horrific, twisted and beautiful realization. 

Their love ran so much deeper than he could have imagined or comprehended. That it spanned over time, history, and legend was overwhelming and _powerful_. As much as it frightened him it also brought a euphoria that shook him physically now.

But he was lost to her, though. And yet she would be looking for him, would she not? But she could not reach him. Not for all of her spirit and determination. He would remained lost to her. 

' _You're being grim and fatalistic_ ,' she had purred playfully, her voice echoing in his mind as it endlessly did when he was awake.

“I am grim and fatalistic,” he acknowledged aloud between sobs. “But loving you was... it was more than I ever deserved. Being loved from afar is the greatest grace I have ever been given.” She was everything to him. 

“You have a rare and marvelous spirit, ma lath,” he wept, tears still falling from his eyes. Even though the ages had crumbled around him and his people dissolved into a bitter shell of what they once were, she had risen from the ruins of such failures and had thrived. Upon her was borne the promises and prayers of centuries past. Countless failures and years of descent had led to her being awakened and alive.

And her love was worth every damn century of misery he had suffered and wallowed in despair. 

He recalled her promises in the Fade. He recalled their long talks and playful chiding over their wild idealism. He recalled passionate vows exchanged in their nights together. He recalled the small girl that clung to his statue, begging for acceptance. 

' _I will restore you. And then, we will be together._ ' 

Again he beheld the purple wildflowers that bloomed where the wolf's statue once stood. He reached out and picked one, rolling the stem preciously in his trembling fingers. Something exceptional and beautiful placed its first hook in the tatters of his heart as he beheld the flower in his hand. He shuddered as he allowed something small and fragile to take root again.

“Maybe... maybe you really can, ma sa'lath.”

Hope.

 

Miles upon miles away, a woman stood on the balcony of her fortress, gazing out into the snowy mountains ahead. She shivered slightly in the cold night as she reached out a tender hand to the figure mounted on the balcony. Beside her on the terrace, a small, crude wooden figure of a wolf stood facing out towards the mountains, always watching for her sake. 

Thirty-two year-old Thalassa Lavallen took a deep breath as she beheld the night over Skyhold.

“I'm close, Solas. I will find you, ma lath.”

She smiled.

“I will find you. And then, we will be together.”


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: My beautiful friends and anons! Thank you again for all of your support and kindness! I had absolutely not intended to write a sequel but... you guys are a convincing lot :3 I hope it meets the standards of the first iteration. It was a lot of fun to go back and revisit this! I hope it brings you some comfort as we await a Solas-centric DLC (with a happy ending)! Thanks again for you messages, reviews, kudos/favs, and well, everything!

Despite turning the thick papyrus page to continue her studies, Thalassa Lavellan disappointingly realized that she had long reached her capacity for reading that night. Thick black words, once devoured hungrily now lay limp on the leather-bound plate, her eyes attempting to pick and play, trying to fit more ideas and concepts into her brain. She sighed heavily and admitted defeat, closing the tome in her lap as the muffled slap of pages echoed in her chambers. She idly leaned her head back against the wooden footboard of her bed, her eyes closing as she titled her face upwards towards the ceiling. The cool draft from the open balcony door was a welcome balm on her throbbing forehead. The headache had started as soon as she had heard Dorian's motherly clucking in the library that afternoon.

' _Reading his syllabus again, my dear? This is the fourth time, yes?_ ' he had chided to her. Her face twitched into an irritated frown, one that was more suited to a child annoyed at their teasing sibling. At her feet was the note she had tenderly 'borrowed' from Solas' desk many months ago. It was a carefully constructed list of books, tomes and journals he had requested for the Inquisition library upon his initial arrival to Skyhold. Back then, she had relieved his desk of it eagerly, with an enthusiasm akin to girlish glee, in order to learn more about him. She had appreciated the challenge it provided her to expand her own field of knowledge. She delighted in his smile when she would propose discussions and questions relating to the texts or challenge him with her own interpretations.

When he had left, it was one of the first things she had the time to scour for clues or hints as to the nature of his abrupt disappearance. She was certain that the shattering of the orb was at the heart of it, and yet she still knew so little about it to properly connect how it would have affected him so. She had hoped that some small thread of knowledge could be pulled into light, giving her some kind of vantage point. Yet the tomes he had studied in his time at Skyhold yielded no definitive clues. Small leads, scavenged by Leliana's scouts from the cold trails that Solas had left, were devoid of answers. Even the excursion to the village Solas had claimed to have hailed from yielded only crushed ruins and faded dreams. She had tried to lay among the ruins and walk the Fade as Solas had taught her to do. Yet her newness to the art held her back, and she could only seek memories and visions from days past. She could not yet scour the years or even centuries past that may have yielded something more decidedly interesting than a flock of birds resting from their migration or a small doe relieving itself in a nearby clearing. Her floundering was frustrating. Her depth of knowledge and trusted magical skill were failing her. Her lack of progress was anguish. She clenched her fist tightly, feeling the weight of her failures bubble within her chest. 

The blind frustration she felt was the Temple of Mythal all over again. That she, a Dalish, had been brought to a place so ancient and old. The majestic wonders of her heritage laid bare before her and she must have looked like an _infant_ to him there. Stumbling and playing among shattered remnants that she knew not of and could not fully comprehend. Unable to read the ancient Elvish presented before her. Struggling to recognize the glittering mosaics that were so far removed from the vision the Keeper had painted of the Creators. She was eager to learn and to understand. She wanted to reclaim that which was lost to her. And yet the gap between her and Solas was a gulf that she could not yet cross. In knowledge, magic, and history. And somehow, also in love. If only she had more knowledge, more skill, she could have deciphered what was in the temple. The knowledge there may have helped her understand more about Solas and his goals. She would have understood more about the connection of the orb to the ancient elves. Understood why it mattered so much to Solas. She could have stopped him from leaving.

A deep exhalation of breath flared from her nostrils as she titled her head forward and opened her eyes again, looking deep into the gentle fire that crackled in her hearth. She sought relief from her train of thought in the lazy flames that lapped into the air, small embers floating aimlessly into the chimney.

“You left me with so little to work with. On purpose no doubt,” she growled, shifting the closed tome from her lap and onto the carpeted floors of her chambers. She rose to her feet and crossed out to the balcony, the bright glittering stars and sweeping snowy mountainsides greeting her as she welcomed the cool night air. Her eyes fell upon the small, horribly crafted, wooden wolf that was mounted on one of the stone balcony posts. She smiled at it affectionately, the sight of it drawing some of the tension from her body. 

“Ever attentive, Hahren. I am always grateful for your careful study of the night,” she chuckled as she leaned on the balcony next to it, trying to ease the strain on her mind and heart. The stone statue of Fen'Harel from the Lavellan camp had been a stationary friend and confidant to her when she had no one else. When she had been brought to the clan and treated as an outcast, she had sought him out as a fellow exile and pledged herself to him as a companion.

She had hesitated to carve or bring something back in his likeness to Skyhold however, not wanting to fall back into her old, strange habits of reliance. She had promised him that she could stand alone, without his aid. That she could act on her own merit and strength, as he had done for centuries. She chuckled darkly now as she regarded the horrible, mangled carving on her balcony. She had been so desperate that night. He had given her strength and support when she had needed it most. When she could ask no other. 

“Hahren, do you remember the night that I brought you here?” she asked him with a sad smile, her hand reaching out tenderly to the uneven edges of his wooden frame. The habit of speaking to him was one that she had developed as a child. That it brought her comfort even as an adult was something that she had never shared with another. She doubted that anyone would ever truly understand the connection she had developed with one many called Trickster and Dread Wolf. 

“I was alone when I returned to Skyhold. When-” she paused as the memory of the night in Crestwood tried to play again in her mind. She immediately forced the memory away, unwilling to bring it to life once more. 

“When I was emotionally compromised,” she corrected, “I could think of no other to burden with my heartache. I didn't want anyone to see me like that. I could only turn to you,” she offered sheepishly. “I borrowed tools and a discarded block of wood from the barn and carved you from desperation and misery. I'm sorry for my horrible craftsmanship, it does you no justice. I could barely see through my tears,” she chuckled as she traced the uneven ears on his head. “It's mortifying to think of how I was. How pitiful I must have seemed to you. It shattered all the poise and dignity I worked so hard to maintain, Hahren. I wanted you to be proud of me. To see me as a woman capable and learned of your cunning and composure...” she trailed off, her eyes falling from Fen'Harel and onto the jagged slopes of the mountains. She pulled her fingers back from him as well, feeling embarrassed. 

“And instead I begged you for comfort. Pleaded for relief from my misery... over heartache for another man...” she sighed softly. “Shameful.” Thalassa shook her head in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed as she recalled herself that night. Her left arm still propped against the balcony, she reached her right hand up to her face, fingertips grazing the skin upon her reddened cheeks. The place where the vallaslin had once woven its cruel tapestry into her skin. A mistaken tradition that had once been branded upon her with misplaced pride. She recalled the warmth of the magic that had pulled the ink free from her cheeks. How pure and old it had felt. 

' _When he removed your vallaslin... did it hurt?_ ' she recalled Dorian asking, his leather-bound fingers gingerly touching the skin of her cheek as he had examined her. While he had looked upon her like a physician would studying his patient, his voice had been tender, illustrating his deep compassion and concern as one of her few, trusted friends.

' _Not physically, no,_ ' she had replied simply, unwilling to offer further detail at the time.

Emotionally, yes. 

Spiritually, yes.

' _Ar lasa mala revas. You are free._ ' 

And a once dull ache seared alive, the pain renewed fresh as the wound tore open, the memory flowing freely. Thalassa closed her eyes, brows furrowed together as the evening in the Crestwood grotto played again in her mind. 

She had looked up at him that night imploringly. Desperately seeking his acceptance and reassurance after he had removed the cursed vallaslin. A thousand thoughts, fears and desires pouring from her as she felt more exposed than ever before in her life. She had been so far removed from her clan for so long, and he had severed the final tie she had to the Dalish. She had been freed from their misplaced and stubborn trust in twisted legends and old lies. She waited breathlessly as he regarded her with a calm, serene peace. A tender smile on his face.

' _You are so beautiful,_ ' he had told her warmly, the sincere tenderness he conveyed melted every doubt that had nettled at the fringes of her mind and brought a powerful release of comfort to her heart. His eyes that night had been so open and warm, a stirring affection within that declared more love than he could have ever kindled into his melodic, rhythmic prose. 

Stop. 

Her eyes sprung open, fingers digging into the stone of the balcony. Continuing on that path would only feed her sadness. She wouldn't get any closer to him dwelling on it. She couldn't heal if she continued to wallow in the memory.

“I don't need to weep like a helpless girl anymore, Hahren, ” she said aloud, a defiant, darkened smile creeping across her face as she cauterized the ache with her own stubbornness. “The morning that I woke up on the balcony, crumpled like a miserable child and whimpering like a fool, I saw my options laid out before me. I could let him leave me and wallow in despair. I could try to move on from him, turn my back on the only person I have ever truly loved and trusted. Or...” and it was here that her smile grew feral, “fix whatever fool errand or misunderstanding separated us and drag my lover back into bed.” She nodded then, as though trying to convince the night of her self-assurance. 

“It seemed so clear at the time. Defeat Corypheus, recover the orb, and then receive the answers Solas promised. I could then mend the rift that separated us. But it's never that easy it seems...” She shook her head again, remembering his defeated posture as he sunk before the shattered orb. 

' _No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real,_ ' he had said sorrowfully, unable to look at her.

“The orb... the temple... the past haunts me. It haunts _us_. His purpose is veiled to me, and yet it must be tied to the orb. And if the orb is Elvish, then it is tied to to our very heritage... I can't decide if he's chasing the past or if it's chasing him.” Her frustration and stubborn optimism began to wane as her suspicions and thoughts spiraled downward. She turned her gaze back to Fen'Harel. Careful, uneven features looking out into the night. 

“When am I going to finally catch up, Hahren?" she asked, her face softening as she felt the strings binding her heart pull free again, exposing her uncertainty and fear. "When will I be worthy?” The cold, low howl of the wind was her only answer as it stirred against her body, pushing tendrils of dark hair into her eyes. She breathed deeply and felt the wind prickle against her skin as she continued to look upon the wooden statue, as though waiting for response. 

“Vhenan.” 

It was like a bolt of lightning straight to her heart. The adrenaline flooded so suddenly, her brain could barely comprehend the sweet and familiar voice that had passed like a tickling whisper by her ears. Nerves sparked to life before thought was able to dictate her wild movements and she spun around to the sound of his voice. And as suddenly as her body was jolted to life, her blood froze inside her limbs as sight finally conquered the other senses that were demanding, pounding for answers again skin, tissue and muscle. Her eyes widened in horror. Amazement. Joy. 

Her bedroom chamber was no more. Beyond the threshold of her balcony was now a forest clearing. Tender tufts of grass were fluffed by a gentle spring breeze, its warmth welcome as the chill of the night air still clung to the balcony. Familiar old friends bore their glittering green leaves as they waved aimlessly in the spring breeze. The giant oak trees she had loved as a child towered beyond, framing the familiar clearing and lining the edges high above the thick, prickly brush that had scrapped and scratched her skin so many years ago. 

She fought the burn on her cheekbones, feeling the emotion begin to rise to her eyes as she took sight of the patch of purple wildflowers that bloomed below the base of a stone statue. Her trembling lips curved upwards to a knowing smile as she beheld him then. Watching stoically, seated above the flowers she had planted just for her Hahren.

Fen'Harel.

The stone statue gazed back at her with the same penetrating expression. Always listening. Always inviting. It brought something young and pure to life in her heart again, as though she were that eager youth standing before him once more.

Moisture prickled at the corners of her eyes as she tried to process everything silently. His voice. This place. Where is he? How did he know? When did she start dreaming? How does he know this place? How long has she been in the Fade? Did he hear what she said earlier? Does _he_ know about _him_? 

The questions darted ceaselessly as her legs moved sluggishly from the balcony, carrying her forward without her truly realizing that she was moving at all. The shock was still overwhelming as she crossed the threshold and then felt _alive_ in this place. The smell of the wood, the feel of the soft earth beneath her feet, the soft puff of spring wind fluttering her hair. It was all the same. Brought back to her as though she were truly here almost ten years ago. She stopped her movement then, right before the statue, and took in a deep breath while closing her eyes. The adrenaline was still running in spurts through her limbs as she attempted to distance herself from the thick emotion that swam within her, beginning to cloud reason and judgment. So little had been said aloud. So few precious moments had elapsed. And yet there was an overflowing flood of realization and understanding that lay in this scene. The vision he created.

He knew.

She opened her eyes, locking her gaze upon the stone statue of Fen'Harel as she had done for many years. The word Hahren was there on her lips. Ready. Eager to offer to him. Yet she was silent in that moment, letting the desire pass through her, unanswered. There were words yet to offer another.

“Where are you?” she asked aloud, her tone much softer than she had hoped to convey. A ragged sigh left her as she desperately sought the steel and resolve she possessed earlier. “Show yourself, Solas.” The silence was torture as she stood there feeling foolish. Fear and uncertainty pounded within her skull and chest. She despised how much this affected her. How out of control she felt here in this of all places. Where she had once known what little freedom she thought she had.

“I'm here, Vhenan.” His voice echoed around her, and a bubbling ecstasy was driven straight to her brain, the bliss utterly intoxicating. She immediately regretted the blind, open joy that lit up her face at hearing his voice again. She didn't want to make this easy for him. And yet here she was with tears in her eyes, still beaming with the girlish enthusiasm of one that pines for a lost lover. She allowed the smile to fade from her lips as she pulled them into a more even expression, correcting her immediate and open reaction.

' _Be calm,_ ' she commanded firmly to herself. She wanted to seem collected and unperturbed, and yet she was so thirsty for him, parched from weeks without his presence. Dwelling on his voice, she realized only then that it had come from the Fen'Harel statue. As though the stone itself was speaking to her. The realization gave her pause and she wondered if he were taunting her. Her cheeks flared red, uncertain if she should be angry or embarrassed.

It was then that she felt the press on her back.

Her eyes widened and the few teetering tears spilled freely in surprise as she stood against him, back to back, there in the clearing. All at once, she could feel his frame aligned against hers from behind, so close together and yet facing opposite. She could hear the soft tinkling of his necklace against the metal fastenings of his tunic. His familiar scent flooded her and she closed her eyes, eager to be swept away by the comforting tide his presence brought. Her head fell back eagerly, her fingers sought his warmth...

She could not move them towards him.

The quick juxtaposition of emotions slammed against her again. The joys and the agonies competing without mercy as she tried to turn herself to embrace him. To see him. To just touch him. Yet she stood their stupidly, unable to respond. She could move her arms towards herself, yet she could not move them in the space behind her body, as though a barrier had been erected between them. Her frame itself felt fastened, held together in that one spot and unable to turn. A disgusted grunt escaped her lips and she could hear his taunting, deep chuckle. _Feel_ his smug grin.

“Are you so out of practice in the Fade, Vhenan?” he toyed playfully. It was a low blow, the embarrassment punched straight to her gut and burned her cheeks with shame immediately.

“I... There are... You...” she stuttered. It was all falling apart. This was not how she envisioned seeing him again. Flustered and ill-prepared. “You disarm me,” was all she could manage. He had compromised her emotionally with this setting. With his sudden intrusion. With him subduing her. Was it all forced this way for his benefit? Or presented as a challenge to her? What was this?

“You're right, my apologies. The distance is necessary, however.” Silence fell between them as she waited for him to continue. Yet he just stood there, absorbing the moment perhaps as she was. So many questions competed within her, burning for release and desperate for resolution. She did not want to dissolve into tearful puddles of “I miss you” and “Please come home.” She couldn't give in to the overwhelming emotion and frustration of the moment. She needed answers. Her gaze fell on the stone statue of Fen'Harel in that time. Her eyes pleaded an unvoiced prayer for patience and wisdom.

“How did you come to find this place?” she inquired. He did not answer right away. Instead he drew in a deep breath and released it gently before beginning to speak.

“I came across a curious patch of purple wildflowers in my travels from Skyhold. That they bloomed even in the chill of these autumn nights drew my interest. The Veil was thin there and I dreamed,” he provided simply. “What I had not anticipated was to see _you_ there in the Fade.” Her heart plummeted out of her chest, disintegrating into dust as she let the mortification crawl up her skin. He had walked the Fade at the old Lavellan camp.

“What did you see?” she asked, her mouth dry with anticipation, wondering just how much shame could claim her.

“I saw a disenchanted Keeper's apprentice, desiring knowledge to restore what she believed lost. I saw a confident maiden, enraptured with the budding promise of love and passion in forgotten poetry and wild dreams. I saw a disenchanted young woman, pleading for rapture from a trusted friend on a snowy winter night. I saw a rambunctious girl, twirling mirthfully among the fallen leaves as fire proudly sprung to life in her fingers.” He paused before continuing. “I saw a crying, lonely child, begging for companionship from a lonely beast lost to legend and time.” 

It was then that she tasted the trace of blood in her mouth, suddenly realizing just how hard she had been biting her lip. It was all laid bare before him. How pathetic and small she must seem to him. How foolish she must have looked to him! She had so much to demand and ask of him. So much left unanswered from their time in Skyhold and now her own past was the one that dominated the conversation-the very landscape! It was infuriating how he could know all this about her and she could have so little about him. Would she always be trailing behind him so far? 

“I can't imagine what you must think of me,” she whispered bitterly.

“I wept.” Words hung unvoiced on her lips as her mouth lay opened, slack-jawed in surprise. “I have never loved or missed you more than when I had awoken from the Fade. To have seen you so intimately... To know that you suffered as you did. That you grew as you did. That you trusted-” He stopped abruptly. “I had to see you. I had to...” She could hear the emotion and hesitation finally in his voice. The tense tremble of uncertainty in his voice sparked something within her. He was not here to laugh at her. He did not come here to tell her how mistaken he was to love someone so grossly enraptured with what could be another mistaken Dalish legend. He did not demean her and what she cherished of Fen'Harel. It made him love her more. The revelation made her deliriously happy.

“I have so many questions for you. A thousand things to say and a thousand ways I've imagined saying it,” she began gently. “I've missed you, Solas. I go to the Rotunda every day. My eyes fall to the same desk, the same shadows you used to haunt. I never stop looking for you there, hoping that one day... you'll come back. You'll have returned.” He remained silent, yet she felt him stiffen against her. “I know it's not that simple though. You left for a purpose and you intend to pursue it alone. But it won't stop me from seeking you out. I'm looking for you, Solas. Not just in the shadows of Skyhold. I'm looking in Fereldan. In Orlais. The Free Marches. Tevinter. You had your reasons for leaving, I understand. But it doesn't mean I accept your decision. I don't accept being pushed out of your life.”

“Vhenan-”

“Even though you left,” she said quickly, firm enough to silence him. “ I believe that you still love me. I think you're trying to protect me from something you want to hide. Clearly your purpose is something you feel that you have to do alone. But you must also understand how I feel about you. How deeply I care for you, Solas. I love you. And I will scour the ends of Thedas and the Fade for you whether you like it or not. No matter how much distance you put between us, I will always follow. I will never stop trying to find you. Even if it takes me to the gates of the Black City. Tell me where you are, Solas. Why you-”

“Do not throw your life away for me, Vhenan,” the words tumbled from him, the emotion now entrenched within his pained voice. “You have so much promise. You have so much to offer this world and you are the hope of so many. There are others-”

“There is _no_ other,” she growled. “You know this. You know how I feel!” A tense silence passed between them. “Why did you come here, Solas?”

“Because I am weak,” he responded sadly. “Because after seeing your memories in the Fade, I was drawn back to you. I had to speak with you once more.”

“Let me see you, ma lath. Let me touch you,” she pleaded as she tried to lean into him.

“No. Distance is necessary. Because I must leave you again.” His tone was deeper now and seemingly more detached. “I did in fact come here with purpose. I came here to tell you about me. About who I am.” It was this that sparked the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat again. It seemed to dance in her throat as she processed his words. 

“Who you are? I-”

“I'm certain you have already amassed considerable suspicion about me. You are an intelligent woman. It is well placed. I am in fact not entirely who I say I am.” In truth she had suspected duplicity for some time. Not everything he had said about himself added up. The ruined village he claimed to have hailed from exposed that much. Her doubt over many of his deflections had accrued over time and she always knew that he was holding something back. She had never aggressively confronted him about it, however. She had been content to wait and let him volunteer the knowledge. That opportunity had never before shown itself. Until now.

“You are an ancient elf,” she blurted out boldly, one of her wild theories coming to life on her lips. She had long suspected it, yet never voiced the idea aloud to anyone. How deep his wisdom ran, how old his magic was and how evasive he was with his past. It all contributed to this gnawing, ludicrous suspicion at the back of her mind. She half expected him to laugh. To wave his hand and silence her fantastic theory. He did nothing of the sort.

“That is only part of the truth.” Her mind reeled, seizing greedily upon the nugget of truth given to her and trying to commit reason and belief to it. “I was not always known as Solas, Vhenan. I had another well-known identity before I entered Uthenera.” 

Her heartbeat was too fast. Her mind raced too much. It was all too much. Uthenera. He was an ancient Dreamer. Just how old was he then? Did he live in Arlathan? Her mind was struggling to keep her thoughts in order. Did he just say another identity? 

“You are intimately familiar with him.” Her eyes locked upon the impassive stone gaze facing her once more. 

The eyes of the Dread Wolf. 

Something insane began to needle at the edges of her mind.

“Who I am and what I saw in your memories compels me here. To tell you something that I meant to reveal to you that night in Crestwood. The truth of my identity.” The sound of Solas' necklace clinked in the breeze again behind her. A wolf's jawbone, clasped with thick leather bands around his neck. Always with him.

“I am closely linked with your Hahren. More than you can imagine.”

No.

“Thalassa Lavellan, I have witnessed your hardship and I have now heard your pleas for friendship. For Guidance. Deliverance. Love.”

No, no, no, no, no.

“I am honored and humbled by your commitment to me. I am proud of the woman that you are and overjoyed by your long-held dedication to me. You are more than I could have ever dreamed of in a companion and lover.” Tears fell from her eyes as she shook her head.

“Do not toy with me,” her voice cracking, barely above a whisper.

“There are many other names I have been called by the Dalish over the years.”

Her breath was too fast. She could not take in enough air.

“He Who Hunts Alone. Roamer of the Beyond. The Great Wolf.” 

“Impossible-”

“Thalassa, I am Fen'Harel.” 

Both hands came to cup her mouth as she poorly suppressed her gasp. Her body shuddered against him as the revelation was birthed into spoken words and known reality. Tears overwhelmed her vision and she could not blink them away fast enough from her eyes. She drew in whimpering breaths, her lips trembling as she attempted to stop the current of sobs. She shook her head again, ragged breath hissing in her palms as she drew in more air. 

“I... I am sorry,” he muttered softly.

“All this time...” she whispered hoarsely, emotion thick in her voice. “It was you? It was you all along?” She could feel his body droop behind her, shoulders sinking in disappointment. He thought her upset. He thought her disgusted with him.

“I am sorry I deceived you. Solas is not who you thought him to be. Fen'Harel for that matter is also not what you thought. I am so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. To crush everything you have fiercely clung to and devotedly believed in.” She did not respond. She was in shock. “Yet again I disturb you with the truth. I never intended for this to escalate as it did. I tell you this to give us both peace.” He hesitated slightly as he waited for her response.

Silence. 

“Turn away from me, Vhenan. From Solas. From Fen'Harel. Leave me behind... Thalassa, let me go. I beg you.” It was here that he truly gave pause. He gave her the time to allow all that had transpired to sink in. In particular, he hoped that she would consider his offer. That she could move on from him. From both Solas and Fen'Harel. He heard one more heavy, ragged breath leave her shaking frame... before she began to chuckle.

“I've really always loved you, haven't I? It's like a fairy tale,” she said lightly as another delirious chuckle escaped her lips. “When I had no one else among the Lavellan clan, I had Fen'Harel in my imagination and dreams. When I had no other to lean on as Inquisitor, I had Solas, my lover and adviser. I always knew there was more to my Hahren. I wanted to believe it so badly... And yet I knew there was something you were hiding from me too. That it's all connected... To know that he's real and alive. That you're alive and you're the same. This is beyond any kind of clever happenstance or luck...” she trailed off wistfully, an uneven breath quivering from her again. “It's almost-”

“I am no god, Thalassa. None of this was planned or divined in any way. I did not hear your cries at the time. I was not aware of your suffering. I was not aware of your previous... affections. I am not worthy of any kind of reverence.”

“I never wanted you to be a god, nor did I ever hold you in that way. Didn't you listen to me?” she asked him incredulously. “I wanted a friend, a companion... a lover.” He tensed again as she smiled. Beamed. “At least I knew one thing the Dalish didn't have right. You are no villain.”

“No, you are mistaken. I am exactly what your Keeper warned you and your clan against,” the firmness in his voice surprised her. “It is why I always hesitated to pursue you. You should not love me, Thalassa. I am not worthy of you.” These words drove straight to her heart, the impact was like a knife to her chest. 

' _When will I be worthy?_ ' Her own words, spoken aloud only minutes before echoed within her again. And yet here he was, attempting to say that _he_ was unworthy of _her_. The man who was everything she had ever dreamed of in her past and present. The audacity.

“I don't care about what anyone else thinks,” she told him, bitterness tinging her tone.

“You should. You will. I was every bit the monster they declared me to be. I remain so.”

“That's not true!” she growled defiantly. “I don't know what Fen'Harel was like a thousand years ago, but I know you Solas. And you are nothing like what those fools take you to be.”

“You realize that I am responsible for the fall of the elves? For the banishment of the gods that the Dalish revere so?” She felt her stubbornness rise to her head, almost deliriously so.

“I know better than to take what the Dalish say at face value. You taught me that much.” She paused here, frustration twitching a vein on her temple as she continued. “Solas, I know nothing about what happened at Arlathan, I don't know the truth about the supposed Creators, and I know nothing about their banishment. When it comes to our history, the _true_ history of the elves... I... I am an idiot!” The admission burned on her cheeks as she wrestled with what to say. 

“I am truly a fool in that respect,” she admitted again. “I am blind to so much. I'll never have all of the wisdom that you do. The perspective. I'll never read ancient Elvish as well as you are able to. I'll never walk the Fade as well as you can. I will never have a natural mastery of magic like you do. I will never match you in intellectual competence. And that _kills_ me,” she hissed, tears rising to the edges of her eyes. “You rise far beyond all the things I have struggled to master all my life. The things that are precious to me. It makes me admire and love you so much more. So don't you _dare_ ever say to me that you are unworthy of me,” anger punctured her words as she felt the tears roll from her eyes again. She heard him take in breath to speak to her gently. She would not allow it. She wasn't done yet.

“While I cannot match your strides in many respects, I recognize that I am not utterly incompetent,” she assured him. “I have worked hard to be as knowledgeable, resourceful, and respectful as I am today. There is more that I want for myself, and while there are areas where I am very lacking, make no mistake--I am very proud of who I am and what I have become. I am forged from the hardship of one who is an outcast. One who excels to conquer the challenges before her and not content to simply be an ordinary elf. I am not perfect, but I have worked hard to become someone that I love. Someone that you could love. Someone who is worthy of _you_.”

“Thalassa, you know nothing of who you pledge yourself to-”

“I do know _you_ , Solas!” she cried passionately. “I'm not in love with Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf legend. I'm not in love with Fen'Harel, my Hahren. I'm in love with Fen'Harel, who is SOLAS! You who is moved by the plight of the downtrodden and the enslaved. You who seeks wisdom and truth in all corners of the physical and spiritual worlds! Who paints magnificently! Who hates tea! Who defends mortal and spirit alike! I know and love all of the things that make you who you are! No legend, story, or person can dictate otherwise!” The emotion stirred strongly within her. And it weakened him. She felt it and seized her moment.

Passion shot through her blood as the mark on her hand crackled to life, the sound of the activated magic like that of a cracking whip. She twisted the Fade in that second, unbinding herself from her previous inaction. Before he was able to react, her hand grasped his left arm and she spun him around to finally face her. She caught sight of him briefly, surprise etched onto his face as his eyes widened. Tears were already streaming down his face.

“I will never stop loving you and _nothing_ will keep me from you!” she growled ferociously as her right hand grasped the jawbone necklace tightly. She _pulled_ , bending him down towards her. Her lips crushed against him desperately, his mouth limp in shock, eyes wide as he felt the leather noose break free from his neck. The straps fell from his shoulders, broken from the force of the passionate tug towards her body. She released the bone from her hand and her fingers seized the fur hem of his coat, pulling him roughly as she tried to deepen her kiss. 

As the bone clattered to the ground, he came alive.

All the urgency and passion that was bottled so carefully and tightly struck free like a match, sparking to sudden life as his arms wrapped around her body desperately, lips responding zealously. His tongue darted to meet hers, aggressive and urgent as it passed along her lips and entered her mouth. Thalassa moaned against him as his trembling fingers wove into her soft hair, finding purchase and tugging firmly, her head titled back against his pull. The opportunity allowed his lips to trace downward, teeth nipping carefully on the sensitive flesh of her neck while his tongue soothed any faint marks he painted upon it.

“Ma lath...” she moaned breathlessly. Her eyes fluttered open and she titled her head downward, recapturing his lips with her own. She brought her hands to his face, fingers framing him from both sides as they continued their passionate exchange. She felt his arms slip around her then. That his right palm found its favorite resting place just on the crest of her bottom brought a small chuckle to her occupied lips. 

Moments later, their kiss finally broke, both parties struggling for air as their chests heaved unabashed. As she pulled her lips away from his, her fingers still captured either side of his face, bringing him to meet her gaze. 

She beamed through her tears as she truly beheld him, joy painted upon her face despite the struggling sorrow and relief that warred upon him. Steel blue eyes gazed back at her, reddened from the flow of tears, as his hands unwound from around her body and reached up to frame her own face, studying her carefully in turn. How she had missed the sharp lines of his distinguished features, the parting of his lips as he drew in breath, the cleft chin she had longed to plant another kiss upon. Her memory did him no justice. He was a truly a beautiful man. 

“You undo me,” he whispered fiercely, leaning forward and allowing their foreheads to touch one another affectionately. More tears parted from their eyelashes as they both closed their eyes, holding each other there for what felt like an eternity. Thalassa released his face from her grip, burying her head in his chest and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He in turn enclosed his arms around her again and buried his face in her hair, breathing in deeply. She smiled, realizing that he was capturing her scent again.

“I've never wanted anything more in my life. You are what I've been searching for all this time, Solas... my Fen'Harel. You are my greatest comfort,” she whispered to him. He began to stroke her hair.

“If only you had lived in Arlathan, Thalassa. If only you had been there when it all fell apart. Together, we might have...” he hesitated, his fingers slowing suddenly. Despite a protest deep within her core, she pulled back slightly from him to meet his gaze again, her hands now gripping his upper arms.

“Tell me. What happened at the fall of Arlathan? Why are the legends of Fen'Harel so poisonous against your character? Is this all connected to why you left? Is it connected to the shattering of the orb?” Her heartbeat quickened as she watched him wrestle with her questions. Hesitating.

“Come find me and I will tell you.” Her glowing joy subsided into a concerned frustration.

“You push me away yet again. Why? Why must this wait? We are here together now,” she asked impatiently, her fingers digging into the sleeves of his coat. 

“Because I will be better equipped to explain when we meet again. Outside of the Fade.” He hesitated again, struggling with how to phrase himself further. “Thalassa, I will not be the same as before, however. I will be... something more.” Her eyes widened then in fear. What was he talking about? Some type of ancient magic? A different form? Was this because of the broken orb? Was he talking about some type of possession? 

“What do you mean? Solas, are you in danger?”

“Very much so, yes.” That he looked so utterly resolved and defeated completely frightened her. 

“Solas, don't-”

“I have no doubt that you will find me, Vhenan.”

“Of course I will!” she growled angrily, gritting her teeth. “You don't get to make such cryptic, fatalistic declarations as that and expect me not to respond!” He smiled softly at her passion and unwound one of his arms from around her back, bringing his hand up to caress her face affectionately.

“Thank you, Vhenan. For everything that you are. For what you have given me. It is more than I ever deserved.”

“Solas-” He then lifted a finger to her lips to silence her, his soft smile fading into sorrow once more. It was similar to the transition of emotion the night that he left her in Crestwood.

“This path is one that I must walk in solitude forever. This fate is mine alone. Indeed, I would not wish it on an enemy, much less someone that I love.” Her eyes widened, the words ones that she recognized immediately. She had agonized over them after Cole had cryptically spoken them to her. And yet here he was, telling her the same. She knew if she asked more questions that he would deflect them as he had already done. She had no choice then but to convey her resolve.

“Then I will free you from it!” she declared passionately, gripping him tightly. “I promised you, don't you remember? That I will find you and restore your name. That we will then we will be together. Forever.” His face relaxed into a sorrowful smile as more tears gathered at the edges of his eyes.

“I believe you, Thalassa. I truly believe you.” It was all she needed to hear. He wanted to be free of his cruel fate, whatever it was. And he believed that she could succeed in not only discovering it, but succeed in freeing him from it. It was the spark that gave her hope and re-lit the fire that kindled her spirit. “Go to the eluvian, Thalassa. Find me between worlds.” She could have kicked herself in that moment. The eluvian, of course! That he had evaded Leliana and her spies so easily... 

“I will, Solas. I will find you!” she exclaimed. Fear pounded at her heart as she felt the Fade begin to slip from her. He was fading from view, dissipating now as the clearing dissolved into a gray mist. She was about to wake up. Despite any protest she may have, this dream was slipping from her grasp. She only had few precious moments left. “I love you just as you are! We will be together again! I swear to you!” She felt her fingers slip through him then, his body slowing fading out of existence. A tender smile still held on his face as he looked to her lovingly.

“I love you, Thalassa. I love you.”

 

Her head snapped forward, flinging upward from the footboard of her bed as her body jolted and the heavy tome in her lap clattered to the ground loudly. She was out of the Fade and back to Skyhold in earnest. Thalassa was still trembling with emotion as she adjusted her vision back to her bedroom, the cold night air still filtering from the balcony and the fire in her hearth long subsided to brightly glowing embers. Shaking fingers wiped the few tears that remained at the corners of her eyes and she began to rise to her feet.

Her mind tried to pull out the major points she had learned from the few precious moments she had with Solas in the Fade. He was Fen'Harel. He was in danger. He would tell her his purpose, connection to the past and what his horrible fate entailed. But she had to find him first. He was waiting for her. He needed her help.

Before she knew it, she found herself running, almost tripping down the stairs leading out of her chambers. She pushed open the bedroom door, rushing down another flight and then opening the door leading out to the main hallway of Skyhold. She raced down the corridor, past a small group of soldiers sitting around a table, enjoying a break from guard duty. They all stopped their conversation and eyed her curiously as she raced by them. Varric, looking haggard and exhausted from staying up late writing what was likely his next novel, looked up at her with furrowed brows as she dashed by.

“Thal?” she heard him call out to her, but she had already crossed the threshold and was practically leaping down the stairs out to the courtyard. Her feet carried her towards the tavern where she swung the door open much louder than she had anticipated. All conversation, song and movement halted as the patrons turned to see her rush in. She offered no explanation, no insistence to continue their activities as she bounded towards the stairs. She heard some break into low whispers as she bounded up to the second floor. It was then that she saw a small head poke out from the third floor balcony, a large, floppy hat utterly engulfing him.

“Cole!” she called up to him as she rounded the staircase to the third floor. “We're leaving at daybreak! Get ready now!” He nodded wordlessly as she reached the top of the stairs and bounded to the final door. Her fist pounded against it loudly. “I'm coming in!” She did not wait for protest or response as she flung open the door to the darkened room. Two figures had already bolted up, sitting upright in bed. The bright light from the tavern made them both wince as they regarded Thalassa.

“Maker's breath, Thal, couldn't this wait until morning?” Dorian growled sleepily as he glared at her.

“What's going on, Boss?” Iron Bull asked her, his voice low and serious, utterly alert. He watched cautiously as he witnessed her lean her arm against the door frame for support, gasping deeply for air. He caught sight of the tears falling from her eyes.

“Pack your things. We leave at daybreak,” she told them between gasps of air.

“And where are we going exactly?” Dorian asked, annoyance still tinging the edge of his tired voice as he rubbed his eyes. To the surprise of both men, she beamed at this. Through tears and gasping breaths she looked happier than she had in weeks.

“Gentlemen, we're going on a wolf hunt.”


End file.
